


Nooks and Crannies - Boots with my Father's Name

by kete



Series: Nooks and Crannies [3]
Category: The Big Valley
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, different POV, gapfiller, third episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-19
Updated: 2010-10-19
Packaged: 2017-10-12 18:38:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/127862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kete/pseuds/kete
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The third episode retold from Silas' POV: The boots Tom Barkley left behind are hard to fill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nooks and Crannies - Boots with my Father's Name

Mr. Tom's gonna be a statue! Mr. Wallace, the mayor himself, done come over and said that if the family din't mind, the townspeople would like to do somethin' to honor Mr. Tom. And then he said that they done thought a statue of him would look mighty fine right in the central square.

Din't mind? I ask you!

Miz Victoria done got all teary-eyed and Mr. Jarrod quietly shook Mr. Wallace's hand, while Mr. Nick was sheer bustin' with pride. That Mr. Nick, he's so much like his father - always talkin' at the top of his lungs, all thunder and lightnin', but that's jus' because he don't want people to know that he's kind of soft-hearted, you know.

Well, that afternoon Miz Victoria goes through Mr. Tom's things, the few still left what she keeps in her closet, and she comes down with Mr. Tom's dress boots. Them's mighty fine boots!

"Silas," says she, "do you remember these?" and gives them to me. Them's black and unadorned, but made of very fine-grained leather, supple to the touch. How often I done shined them boots! He done wore them with his evenin' suit and always pretended he din't like to dress up. But he knew he made a fine figure, all in black with a pleated shirt and them boots all shiny. And Miz Victoria on his arm, all dressed up in a new gown and with her jewels. Such a fine lookin' couple they was.

Now them boots are lookin' somewhat dull as if they know them's not needed no more. I 'member when we done put Mr. Tom's things away after he been dead. His work clothes been much like Mr. Nick's. He done wore them same dark pants and Mr. Nick's now wearin' his black leather vest. But he also liked blue shirts, like Mr. Heath. All them fine linen shirts. Them's all in a chest up in the attic, I think. There been a few jackets and such what done found their way into Mr. Nick's wardrobe. Mr. Jarrod done got his watch and Mr. Eugene his cufflinks.

I always think there's no sadder sight when a body is dead than the empty clothes they leave behind.

"I 'member," I say, holdin' them boots.

"Would you shine them again, Silas," says she, "I want one of my sons to wear them at the commemoration."

With that she means when the statue is unveiled. Come Saturday there will be speeches and a band playin' and celebratin' - and even fireworks! - and Miz Victoria will take the drapery away from the statue. I done heard tell it all when Mr. Wallace been here.

"Sure, Miz Barkley," I say, "I shine 'em all right."

And that I do. With spit and polish and a brush and fine cloth until them's so bright and shiny as the day Mr. Tom first done wore them.

But when Mr. Jarrod tries to put them on, they don't fit, and Mr. Nick can hardly even get his toes inside. He sure had small feet for such a tall man, had Mr. Tom.

So, now they all done made up their mind that Mr. Eugene shall wear them. And when he comes home this mornin', jus' in time to go to town with them all, they wait for him and drag him right over to the settee in the parlor. And then Miz Victoria gives him the boots and explains she likes one of her sons to wear them. But they don't fit Mr. Eugene neither.

"Hey, what about Heath?" he says.

And they all fall silent, lookin' grave. I can tell from his face, Mr. Nick don't like it one bit.

"He's a Barkley son, too," says Mr. Eugene, God bless his innocent heart.

With that Mr. Nick turns away and stares into the fireplace. While he has stopped harrassin' the boy after he done come back from the cattle drive a day early and with them hands and with all the money, he still don't want him too close. I kinda think he now sees him like a poor cousin they done taken in out of charity, but a brother he's still not to him.

Miz Victoria and Mr. Jarrod look at each other and Mr. Eugene says, "He'd wear 'em, I know he would. He'd be proud to wear 'em."

Jus' then Mr. Heath comes in the front door, sees me and cries cheerful-like, "Silas, did Eugene get in?" and throws me his hat.

He done taken to that, I think, because he always used to leave it on at first. And when he thought of takin' it off, he din't know where to put it and I was always after him, takin' it away from him. So's now, when he comes in and sees me, off comes the hat and goes a-flyin'. It's rather a little joke between us.

He's doin' better now that he done proven himself. He's gettin' along with Mr. Nick and there's no more trouble with them hands, oh no.

He greets Mr. Eugene and says, "Boy howdy, you've grown a foot!"

He does get along nicely with Mr. Eugene, he does.

"Seems as if all the knowledge went to my feet," says Mr. Eugene and presses the boots into Mr. Heath's hands. "They were Father's, Heath. Mother would like one of us to wear them at the commemoration this evening. - Well, go ahead, try 'em on."

I suddenly wish I had jus' lost them boots. Mr. Heath looks stunned and don't know what to say. He holds them careful-like, as if he's not sure they won't kick him or somethin' and eases himself down on a chair. While they're all watchin' him gravely, I can see he's feelin' awkward. But he's so used to followin' them now and don't want to make a fuss neither, so he pulls off his right boot and slips on one of his father's. And what do you know? It fits like it's been made for him.

"Well, what do you know?" exclaims Mr. Jarrod cheerfully. "Seems like the best foot wins." And he slaps Mr. Heath on the back.

"Congratulations, Heath," says Mr. Eugene sincerely. The dear boy's well pleased with himself, 'cause he thinks he's done his new brother somethin' nice.

Miz Victoria, she sees that he's not comfortable wearin' them and says, "Heath, it seems to me we have forgotten one small detail - whether or not you'd like to wear them."

He swallows and says, "Well, uh, sure I would. Of course I would. Why wouldn't I?" Then stops and adds in a very low voice, "Well, it's just that, uh, I kinda like to have a chance to think it through."

Then he pulls it off, sayin' a little louder, "I don't much go for fancy boots." And puttin' the boot down next to its twin and pullin' on his own, states, "Maybe some other time." And he leaves and runs up the stairs into his room.

They all look as if he's slapped them right in the face, and Mr. Nick, he scowls. I'm sure he's thinkin', "Could've told ya so."

The thing is that Mr. Heath's mad at his father for givin' his mother a baby and leavin' her alone to raise him all by herself. And Mr. Nick's mad at Mr. Heath for bein' that baby and with so provin' that his father not been quite the man he thought he was. It's all very sad.

But what man can say it can't happen to him? Surely not Mr. Nick, 'cause I know that when he stays in town overnight he's not only ever drinkin' and playin' cards. I hear them hands talkin', you know. I may be old, but I ain't deaf. And Mr. Jarrod? I done brung him many a perfumed letter comin' from San Francisco when he's here on the ranch. Tsk.

Then they all leave to get dressed and pack their things 'cause they're stayin' in town overnight. And there's a bit of a squabble and raised voices and banged doors and when I go upstairs and bring Mr. Jarrod his fresh ironed shirt he's just askin' Mr. Nick, "What was that all about?"

"Eugene punched him in the mouth," says Mr. Nick, leanin' against the footboard of Mr. Jarrod's bed. "Had to pull him off him."

"Ho!" says Mr. Jarrod and raises his eyebrows, "Young Eugene's feeling strong, huh? Did he hit him back?"

"Nope, just tried to keep him off."

"Interesting..." murmurs Mr. Jarrod and starts unbuttonin' his waistcoat.

Oh my! Young stallions - always clobberin' each other.

When they come down, they're all in their Sunday best and Miz Victoria's the last to get ready, Mr. Jarrod rushin' her down the stairs. "Well, come on, hurry up! We got a lot to do before the ceremony!"

They're all piling out the door when Miz Victoria stops and looks back. And here comes Mr. Heath, tuckin' on his new brown tweed suit. He slows down and stands in front of her, unsure if he's still welcome to the party.

"Heath, if you'd rather not go, we'll all understand," says she.

He takes a deep breath and says, "Maybe it's hard for me to forgive Tom Barkley for what he did. But whatever he was to me and to my mother, I know he was a great man to the people in this valley. So, uh, as a part of this family now I kinda like to... go along and honor him for that. If it's allright with you."

She pats his hand and leaves, and he follows her, his shoulders slightly slumped.

Oh, the pain a single thoughtless moment can still cause so many years later...

Heavenly quiet! I go into the kitchen and make myself some tea. We all been given the afternoon free, and Mr. McCall will hitch up the wagon, and a few of us will go into Stockton to watch the ceremony. Three cheers for Mr. Tom! But now... my tea.

**********

When we arrive in Stockton in the afternoon we leave the wagon and team at the livery stable. I wonder where Miz Victoria's buggy done gone, 'cause it's not there. As we're 'bout to leave, we meet with Mr. Heath who comes hurryin' in jus' as we're goin' out. Sal Li beams at him and bows deep, and as usual Mr. Heath looks befuddled and nods at him, sayin', "Howdy, Sal Li!"

Since the cattle drive "the golden tigel" has been Sal Li's hero and his deeds get mightier with every tellin'. Last time I heard it, he done rescued Sal Li and all them hands from a mighty beef stampede of thirty thousand head while fightin' off an attack of General Diaz himself. Thus is the stuff of legends.

While we amble over to the town square leisurely, Mr. Heath comes gallopin' by and vanishes down the street out of town. I wonder where he's goin' at this speed.

The statue sits on a bit of grass right in the middle of the square across from the Cattlemen's Hotel and the horse looks fine s'far as I can tell, but Mr. Tom's still covered up. I wonder whether they done got him right. But anyone wants to know what Mr. Tom done look like jus' has to look at Mr. Heath. And if you wanna know what he been like, well, there's Mr. Nick. Funny, ain't it, how one son's got the looks and the other the temper?

"Dat Mistel Tom?" Sal Li asks, pointin' at the shrouded statue, and I nod. Sal Li never done met him 'cause he done come after Mr. Tom been dead.

"He mighty big," he says impressed, and after short contemplation adds, "Blass balls." You know, in this case I think he even may be right.

We saunter down Main Street and have us a look at the stores. The two of us are seldom in town and so we enjoy our day out.  
Finally we all go into a saloon, and I have me a beer, but Sal Li insists on a whisky and gets giggly right away. He's mutterin' to himself in Chinese now, but I think he's havin' himself a good time. Frankly, I wouldn't care to be alone in here - too many big rough men without no manners and carryin' guns - but Mr. McCall and Ciego and a few of them ranch hands are with us and so it seems all right.

When the sun is settin', we return to the town square, where people are already gatherin' three deep around the spot with Mr. Tom's statue. It's only a good-sized statue to my eyes, but Sal Li's so tiny, for him I'm a strappin' lad. He's hangin' on my arm now, a mite unsteady on his feet. Everyone's in their Sunday clothes, the ladies wearin' their best bonnets, and they're chatterin' like a flock of geese.

Then the band is settin' up right next to the monument and starts blastin' away. The mood gets better and better. We stand a bit back, we're just the hired help after all and not like them important people. Sal Li done started directin' the music now, one-handed, hummin' along - but not the same tune.

Suddenly Mr. Jarrod comes out of the Cattlemen's Hotel where the family's stayin' and straight at us. Takin' me by the arm, he leads me over to the hotel front, and I see Mr. Nick and Mr. Eugene and Miss Audra standin' right inside the entrance. As Sal Li's still hangin' on my other arm, he's dragged along. The brothers and Miss Audra join us and as we's all standin' there, Mr. Jarrod asks worried-like, "Silas, do you have any idea where Mother could be?"

"No, Mr. Jarrod," say I. "She not with you?"

"No," wails Miss Audra, "she's gone. She said she had some visiting to do and left, and I didn't think to ask her where she was going."

I shake my head. "Her buggy ain't at the livery stable," I say, "din't see it when we came in."

"When was that?" asks Mr. Nick.

"An hour or two ago," I say.

"And when did you see her last, Audra?" asks Mr. Jarrod.

"Oh, I don't know," she says, soundin' addled, "I had just unpacked and started trying on my dresses. I still think I should've brought the blue one."

"Audra, I can't believe you've lost our mother," says Mr. Nick aggrieved.

"I haven't," says she in high dudgeon. "I only forgot to ask her where she was going. And why didn't you look after her?"

"I had... things to do," Mr. Nick says.

"Like buying everyone drinks at Piper's," remarks Mr. Eugene.

"I didn't hear you protest, boy," Mr. Nick flares up.

"Children, this is not the time," Mr. Jarrod says. "Fact is, Mother has left and we have no idea where she's gone."

"Golden tigel go find mothel," Sal Li pipes up and smiles at them benevolent-like.

"Huh?" says Mr. Nick, lookin' down at him as if seein' him for the first time.

"Mr. Heath," I explain, "he done left also."

"Who cares," says Mr. Nick. "Why does he call him golden... something?"

"Nick," says Mr. Jarrod, "not now."

"I think it has to do with his hair color," I say mildly.

"Mother was talking to Heath when I saw her last," Mr. Eugene says slowly.

"What? Where?" asks Mr. Nick.

"In the hotel bar. They were both... drinking."

"At eleven o'clock in the morning?" Mr. Nick asks, gettin' worked up.

"What were they talking about, Eugene?" asks Mr. Jarrod.

"I don't know. It looked... private. So, I didn't barge in. But shortly after she was fairly runnin' out of the hotel."

"If he's said anything to upset her..." Mr. Nick grates, crackin' his knuckles.

"Then we deal with that later," answers Mr. Jarrod sharply. "Right now we have to do something to limit the damage. So, I suggest we proceed as planned, just instead of Mother, Audra will unveil the statue. Everything else remains the same. My speech, fireworks, then dinner with the mayor and so forth."

"And where do we say Mother is?" asks Mr. Nick, "People will wonder, you know."

"And so do I," Mr. Jarrod says pensively. "It's not like her to just up and leave without telling anybody. Especially not today."

"Oh, Jarrod, what if something happened to her?" Miss Audra worries.

"Well, something certainly happened that made her leave... where ever. But that doesn't necessarily mean something happened to her. Perhaps she just heard that someone's taken ill, and went to look after them. You know how she is. By the way, that's an excellent excuse, if I say so myself. Let's stick with that for now. Someone at the ranch took ill and she had to go look after them. So, let's not assume the worst yet.

"Nick, you go and ask at the livery as to when she left and if she let them know where she was going or if anybody at least saw in which direction she was going. But make sure you're back in time for the unveiling. We must stand together."

Mr. Nick nods and stalks off, clearly glad to have something, anything to do.

"Silas, you said Heath left as well?" asks Mr. Jarrod.

I nod. "Yes, Mr. Jarrod, he done come into the livery jus' when we arrived."

"Where did he go?"

"Into de night!" Sal Li exclaims with a grand gesture that includes the town, the range and the horizon.

"How many did he have?" asks Mr. Jarrod with amused suspicion.

"Only one whisky," I hasten to assure him.

"Make sure it was the last," he advises.

I nod. "S'far as I could see, he done gone up into the mountains, Mr. Jarrod," I say.

"Hm," says Mr. Jarrod, "where to, I wonder?"

But none of us can answer that, and Mr. Nick comes back from the livery without no answers neither. So, Miz Victoria and Mr. Heath stay gone for the evenin'. And then it's time for the speeches and everyone cheers and Miss Audra pulls off the sheet and there sits Mr. Tom on his horse and don't look much like Mr. Tom, but a mighty fine statue 'tis anyways. And then there's fireworks.

**********

The next day they all come back in the evenin'. Miz Victoria's hangin' on Mr. Heath's arm, and he's all protective-like, handlin' her like she's a wounded little bird. They're both dusty and disheveled lookin'. At the foot of the stairs she stands on tiptoe and kisses his cheek. Mr. Nick's watchin' them and frownin', but the others all looks as if Christmas has come early this year. Then she rushes up the stairs and he goes out lookin' after the horses. He don't like it when them hands bed down his horse, and he's taken to care for all of them family horses himself. As he's goin' out the door, I'm lookin' after him and see he's wearin' Mr. Tom's boots! Silas, I say to my own self, somethin's happened and no mistake.

They say they don't want supper, havin' had it at the Cattlemen's, and so's they all retire to their rooms to freshen up. But I make some sandwiches anyways 'cause s'far as I know Mr. Nick, he'll be hungry in a while.

When they come down again I done set up in the library with coffee and sandwiches and, din't I know it, Mr. Nick's at it right aways. So much for not wantin' supper.

Miz Victoria makes herself comfortable on the settee with a cup of coffee, and Mr. Heath sits down right next to her what he never done before without her special askin' him. Mr. Jarrod, Mr. Eugene and Miss Audra sit down in them chairs, only Mr. Nick keeps standin' at the fireplace. Looks like he don't want to join them yet, or p'raps he jus' wants to keep an eye on them sandwiches.

"So, dear Mother," Mr. Jarrod begins, "what is the tale behind your mysterious vanishing act?"

"Oh, Jarrod," says she, "I hardly know where to begin."

"How about you explain to us why you missed the dedication of Father's statue?" Mr. Nick challenges her. "And what's he got to do with it?" He points his chin at Mr. Heath, who does his usual "I hear a fly buzzin', but I don't rightly know where it is"-act he does when Mr. Nick taunts him.

"Heath," Miz Victoria, she says and takes his hand in hers, "perhaps you should begin?"

He smiles a slow sweet smile at her, takes a deep breath and then says, "When I grew up in Strawberry, my mama and I used to live with Rachel Caulfield and Hannah. I called her Aunt Rachel, though we weren't really related. Rachel was my mother's best friend. They, Aunt Rachel and Hannah, helped raise me. Last I've seen them both was at my mama's funeral. So, when I came here and... stayed, I sent word back home to let them know about me."

"Heath told me all that yesterday morning at the hotel," Miz Victoria takes over, "also that there might still be blood relatives of his living in Strawberry."

"My Uncle Matt and his wife Martha," Mr. Heath says with a frown. "He's my mama's half-brother, same mother, different fathers. They own the hotel in Strawberry, and we hardly ever saw them. They weren't even at the funeral."

That sure ain't right, not goin' to your own sister's funeral, I think.

"So," Miz Victoria proceeds, "after our talk I decided to pay them a visit."

"But why now?" asks Mr. Jarrod surprised. "Why yesterday of all days?"

"Yeah," Mr. Nick cuts in, "why the day they were going to unveil Father's statue?"

That thing sure needles him, it does.

"Oh, Nick," she sighs, "can't you see? Because of the statue! Because of the... boots. Because I just had to find out who the man was I was married to and whom this town was going to honor!"

I thinks she's taken it pretty hard that Mr. Tom's not been faithful to her. And Mr. Heath bein' here of course reminds her every day.

"I understand," Mr. Jarrod, he says gently.

"Well, I don't," bellows Mr. Nick.

"Don't you use that tone with me, Nicholas Jonathan Barkley!" scolds Miz Victoria. "You of all people should understand! Because I know it's gnawed at you, not knowing, not understanding why your father did... what he did."

Mr. Heath hangs his head, hidin' his expression.

Must be pretty bad for him, too, knowin' they all think he's livin' proof for Mr. Tom's misdeed.

"So, you went to Strawberry," Mr. Jarrod gently urges her on.

"Yes, and in the general store where I stopped by to ask for directions to Miss Caulfield's house, I learned that she had died a month and a half ago. But Hannah was still there. Only she wouldn't talk to me."

"They didn't even let me know," murmurs Mr. Heath sadly.

I wonder why this Hannah person din't write to him. Perhaps she can't?

Mr. Nick rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest.

"All I could find out from her was that Mr. and Mrs. Simmons still owned the hotel. She was scared and confused, but oh, so happy, that Heath had found a home with us and was doing well." She squeezes his hand.

"She's always been that way," he says in a low voice, "she's got good days and bad days, but it's gotten worse over the years."

Confused she is. Well, that explains it.

"So, I went to the hotel next and took a room, as it was quite late already. And I met Mr. and Mrs. Simmons."

"Heath's uncle," says Miss Audra, showin' she's followed them up to here.

"Yes, dear, and when they heard who I was they seemed to know about us, and they were willing to talk to me, but as it was late already, as I said, and Mr. Simmons didn't appear to be quite... sober anymore, I made an appointment with them for the next morning." Miz Victoria stops here and seems to think for a while and then concludes, "This... conversation turned out to be very unpleasant."

"Why's that?" asks Mr. Nick curtly.

"Because Mrs. Simmons seemed to delight in telling me how very much in love your father was with Heath's mother."

Mr. Nick starts forward, snarlin', "Now that -" but the combined stares of his mother and older brother stop him short. He has all but forgotten 'bout them sandwiches now.

"She told me that Heath's mother worked in a bar when she met your father."

Mr. Nick grins derisively as he watches Mr. Heath flare up, "She never -"

"I know, dear, I know," Miz Victoria calms him. "It further turned out that they expected me to re-pay them for the financial support given to Heath and his mother while she raised him."

"She said that?" Mr. Heath asks incredulous. "We never saw a cent from them. We could've starved for all they cared."

They seem to be real nasty people, them Simmonses.

Miz Victoria pats his hand. "I know. - I played along at first," she then continues, "but as they were clearly only after the money without giving me any real information, I ended the talk by saying I had to think about it and talk it over with my family first."

"Very wise," agrees Mr. Jarrod, lookin' more'n a little worried.

"Oh, that's really great now, to be associated with such scum," hollers Mr. Nick accusingly and stares at Mr. Heath, whose head snaps up.

"It's not as if I had a choice in the matter," he states icily, starin' back.

They glare at each other until Mr. Nick snorts, crosses his arms over his chest and juts his chin out. But when Mr. Heath looks away, Mr. Nick drops his head, and I thinks he's regrettin' his harsh words.

"When I left the hotel," Miz Victoria interrupts them, "I had made up my mind to go home, but outside Hannah was waiting for me and urged me to come back to her house. She was not very... coherent then as well, but I understood that she had a letter. A letter written by your father to Miss Leah that she wanted to give to me."

This seems to interest Mr. Nick and he steps forward.

I perk up as well, but stay where I am. A letter from Mr. Tom! If that don't beat all.

"While she was looking for it she was talking, half to herself and half to me, I think, and she said that Miss Leah found your father in an alley, beaten half to death and robbed, and that she nursed him back to health."

Mr. Nick frowns and shakes his head.

"When I questioned her further I gathered that she suspected Mr. and Mrs. Simmons to be responsible for her friend Rachel's death. In fact, she was scared for her own life."

"I don't like her bein' all alone out there..." Mr. Heath mutters, shakin' his head.

I wonder, why din't they bring her?

"We asked her to come with us, but she steadfastly refused, and it seemed to agitate her too much for us to press the point," Miss Victoria explains. "Short of dragging her off by force there was nothing you could have done, dear." She squeezes his hand again and he nods.

That sure explains it then. Poor Hannah! It's not as if we din't have a room for her.

"Yeah. What about that letter?" asks Mr. Nick impatiently.

Miz Victoria smiles softly. "She gave it to me at last. I have it."

"Well, let's see it then," he demands and I can see Mr. Heath's shoulders tensin'.

"No, Nick," she says gently. "It's a very private letter from your father to Heath's mother. We both have read it, because it affects us most, but it should stay that way."

"You're right, of course," agrees Mr. Jarrod.

I nod. No readin' of private letters here.

Mr. Nick only heaves a deep breath and don't say nothing.

"Can you tell us - not in detail, of course - what it said?" asks Mr. Jarrod.

She ponders that for a while, then says slowly, "It confirms that your father didn't know about Heath. He didn't know he'd left Leah with child."

Mr. Heath's shoulders relax.

"Well, he wouldn't..." grumbles Mr. Nick.

He isn't happy, but his father not knowin' is better than his father not carin'. And it sure ain't like Mr. Tom to have known and done nothin'.

"I then returned to the hotel to get my carriage, but Mr. and Mrs. Simmons refused to let me go," Miz Victoria continues her tale.

Now that's - impertinent!

"Oh, Ma, how could you! They're dangerous if it's all true," Mr. Eugene speaks up for the first time. The dear boy done sat there, his eyes growin' ever wider, as he's listened to his mother's account.

"Yes, Eugene, I was soon to find that out for myself. They as much as admitted to having killed Miss Rachel by shoving her down a mineshaft."

"Oh, my God!" exclaims Miss Audra. "But why?"

I'd like to know that, too. Murderin' people! Dear Lord, what's next?!

"It seems that when Miss Rachel received that letter from Heath she told Mr. and Mrs. Simmons about it, thinking they ought to know. And they made up a plan to press us for the money they pretended was owed to them for helping Leah raise Heath, but Rachel wouldn't have it. She must have threatened them with telling us the truth, if they tried to bother us and so... they made sure she couldn't."

"It was my letter that caused her death..." Mr. Heath whispers hoarsely.

Oh, no! It's not his fault, I think.

"Oh, never think that, Heath," says Miz Victoria. "How were you to know? No, you're not to blame. Please don't blame yourself."

Such a fine lady, Miz Victoria.

"Don't think that way, Heath," Mr. Jarrod reassures him. "We must make sure the guilt is put where it belongs. On the Simmons. - But how did you get out, Mother?"

"Mrs. Simmons threatened me, saying they had to show me how the accident with Rachel happened -"

"What?" - "No!" - "Oh my God!" They exclaim, everyone reactin' to the shock of hearin' their mother's life threatened.

"- but Heath showed up just in time. I had made a mad dash to the door, but they would have caught me, if it hadn't been for him."

Mr. Nick looks as if he's about to say, "well, he's good for somethin' after all", but bites his lip in time and jus' nods approvingly.

So, Sal Li's been right all the time.

Mr. Jarrod, he says, "That was great good luck! But how did you know where Mother had gone in the first place?"

"I didn't know for sure," says Mr. Heath, "but after our talk at the hotel that morning... I had a strong hunch she might be headed that way."

"And you didn't think it necessary to tell us, of course," growls Mr. Nick, "rather left us wonderin' what the heck could have happened to her! We were short of formin' a posse to go lookin' for her, you know."

"I said a hunch, Nick," Mr. Heath growls back, "not enough to lead you all on a mad goose chase to Strawberry."

Now don't you start that again, my boys! Let's not end this evenin' with beatin' each other up and then I've to get out the liniment again - must put on shoppin' list! - and anyways no thumpin' each other in the house ain't allowed. I'm jus' too old for that.

"Pshaw..." says Mr. Nick.

"I don't suppose Strawberry still has a sheriff?" Mr. Jarrod asks his mother who only shrugs. "Well, I'll find out under whose jurisdiction it falls now and let them know. The Simmons must be prosecuted."

"You do that, Jarrod," says she, "but that wasn't all."

"We were ambushed on Shadow Mountain Pass by a man lying hidden in a wooden scaffold at the entrance to an old mineshaft," says Mr. Heath.

Ambushed! I think.

"I had seen him in town before, but I have no idea what he has to do with it all," wonders Miz Victoria.

"Ambushed?" cries Mr. Nick.

"Shot at us when we drove around the bend," confirms Mr. Heath.

"And...?" asks Mr. Jarrod.

"Oh, your brother threw us both out of the carriage, covering me, and shot him down!" Miz Victoria states proudly.

"With a hand gun?" Mr. Nick asks disbelieving.

Mr. Heath just shrugs. "Didn't bring my rifle."

I grins. That I'll tell Sal Li.

There's a few moments of stunned silence. Then Mr. Jarrod asks softly, "When did you leave Strawberry, Heath?"

He looks at Mr. Jarrod weary-like and says, "'Fore noon."

"No, I mean, how old were you when you stopped living there?"

Mr. Heath hesitates then says, "Fourteen."

"But, where did you go?" asks Miss Audra.

"Signed up with the army," he says.

"You weren't old enough," counters Mr. Nick.

"Told them I was sixteen, didn't make a difference," says Mr. Heath.

"So, you were in the war," says Mr. Jarrod.

Mr. Heath nods. "The last of it."

"Whoa," says Mr. Eugene. "Pa wouldn't let Nick join before he was eighteen. I remember that. I used to hide in the attic when they were yellin' at each other."

I 'member that, too. Always had to get him out of the furthermost corner, where he was playin' with his tin soldiers. They all had their special hidin' places. Miss Audra usually got out of the house and was gone ridin' for hours when she was upset. Still does.

Mr. Heath throws Mr. Nick a quick glance along with his lopsided grin.

"Why'd you do it, Heath?" asks Mr. Jarrod.

Mr. Heath, he shrugs. "Many reasons. But mainly, around that time the mine began to give out. The town was... dyin'. There weren't many jobs to be had anymore. And I had to support my mama."

"I see," Mr. Jarrod says, his eyes lookin' sad.

I feel sad, too. He was so young. He must done signed up 'round the same time as Mr. Nick, they bein' four years apart in age. They were all so very young. Too young for such things.

Then Mr. Heath says, "If you don't mind, I think I'll go to bed now, didn't get much sleep last night." He gets up and stretches his shoulders, and I see for the first time how tired he's lookin'.

"Good night, dear," says Miz Victoria, and again he gives her that slow smile, knowin' they're sharin' a memory now all by themselves.

When he leaves, both youngsters, Eugene and Miss Audra, join him and under a chorus of "good nights" and "sleep wells" they take their new brother in the middle and amble up the stairs.

For a moment they're all silent, everyone alone with their thoughts.

"Well, what a revelation," says Mr. Jarrod at last and gets himself a scotch. "You wanted proof, Nick, and now we have it. A letter in Father's handwriting." He shakes his head.

"A letter she won't let us see."

"Do you doubt my word, Nicholas?" Miz Victoria challenges him.

That'll be the day!

He looks down, ashamed, then says, "No, Mother, of course not."

"Still any doubts as to Heath's pedigree, brother Nick?" Mr. Jarrod, he asks.

Mr. Nick sighs deeply. "No," he says then, "no doubts anymore. He's our half-brother, all right." He shakes his head. "And in the war at fourteen."

Mr. Jarrod and Mr. Nick both have been, of course. But they were officers. Mr. Heath woulda been jus' infantry. They always got it worst. I wonder how he done made it through. But clearly he din't want to answer any more questions tonight. He's not one for talkin' much about himself. Well, he's not one for talkin' much at all.

No one says a word and Miz Victoria's staring into the fireplace, her thoughts far away.

"Oh, you should have seen the house," she then says, "they were so poor."

Mr. Jarrod sits beside her and puts his arm around her shoulders.

"It's just a cabin, really, tidy and clean, but so simple... Bare walls and floors. The furniture so old and worn, but polished. And in a chest there were... I don't know, mementos, I think. Clothes of Leah's and perhaps Rachel's and a hat... I could almost see the woman who had worn that hat before me. A few toys he must have played with when a child -" she takes a sobbin' breath and Mr. Jarrod crushes her to his side to comfort her.

I can jus' see it before me. It's what I see when I go into Mr. Heath's bedroom, you know. It's not that our furniture's all old and worn - though it's sure polished! - but the way it's always tidy in there and the way he has nothin' lyin' around. He's jus' got nothin' he could leave lyin' around.

Mr. Nick looks uncomfortable. He don't like to know this man who's his brother now has been a child once, raised in such poverty, when he's had so much himself.

Mr. Nick's bedroom now... Oh, well. That man never throws anythin' away, from his old saddle and his sailin' boat to the fishin' tackle he used when he was eight.

"Well, he's got it better now," he grumbles.

"Yes," says Miz Victoria, "we must make up for it now. I just can't understand why she never said a word. Why didn't she let your father know?" She looks at Mr. Jarrod.

He sadly shakes his head. "We will never know that, Mother."

We all ponder that for a while.

"He's quite a shot, ain't he?" remarks Mr. Nick, tryin' to lighten the mood.

"That he is," agrees Mr. Jarrod. "That morning at the Sample's place? He was calm, no nerves. Only got the shakes after it was over."

"That's what the men say, too. Barrett says he waited until Wallant had drawn on him, then shot him from the hip. With his rifle."

Something like unwillin' admiration's soundin' in his voice. He likes it when a man can hold his own, does Mr. Nick.

"Well, I for sure wouldn't like to be at the business end of that rifle," says Mr. Jarrod gettin' up. "Mother?" he offers her his hand.

"Yes, I think I'll go to bed, too. It's been a long day."

As they sweep out and up the stairs, I give up bein' a chair and sneak out, too, while Mr. Nick makes short work of the last sandwich.

**********

When I go to bed that night, after readin' in my Bible, I can't sleep. I must think so hard of Mr. Heath and his momma Leah and how they were in Strawberry all this time, jus' some few hours away from here. When Mr. Heath been born Mr. Jarrod was jus' eight and Mr. Nick only four years old. That musta been 'round the time I done come here, come to think of it. Or jus' a short while afore. I done come here when the house was built.

I grin at the thought of Mr. Nick as a little tyke, tiny silver spurs and all. My, my, yes, that was when he done got his first pony, ol' Lancer. Mr. Jarrod was the bookish one, even then. I don't think there was books and ponies in Mr. Heath's childhood. And no poppa to tell him right from wrong and to take him behind the woodshed, if need be. Not that Mr. Tom done taken his boys behind the woodshed - he always said he would, to Mr. Nick 'specially, but never did.

Miz Victoria now - oh my! - she done taken a wooden spoon to Mr. Nick's backside more'n once. He never cried, only glowered and rubbed his behind and stomped off to the stables to mope somewhere in a corner. Somehow I don't think there was a wooden spoon in Mr. Heath's childhood neither. He done said his momma was a gentle woman that first night he came here. I think he musta been a sweet child once, 'fore all the things happened to him what done made him tough on the outside. You don't get scars like that from fallin' off your pony into them rose bushes. Some of those were from lead shot and some were lashes. I know what them looks like, got some of them myself.

I sigh and get up again. I jus' can't find my peace tonight. I get my dressin' gown and softly pad through the house and to the library. The night light on the mantel is softly glowin' and gives jus' enough light that I don't bump into anythin'.

I look up at the portrait and say, "Now, I know it ain't my place to tell you, Mr. Barkley, sir, 'tis jus' that I don't understand it none. The Good Book says our Lord works in them mysterious ways, and I'm sure that's right, but why ain't you never gone back?"

There's no answer, of course, and there never will be. Jus' the night and the moonlight seepin' in through them curtains into the silent house.


End file.
